When Elizabeth woke up, she noticed two things: one, that Newt's head was digging uncomfortably into the crook of her neck, and two, that Tyn was lying across from her in another cot. She turned her head and Newt mumbled something in his sleep, nuzzling his face into her shoulder. Most of his body was sitting in a chair next to her bed, but it looked like he'd fallen asleep some time ago, and had fallen forward onto her. His presence was comforting; he smelled like Newt, dirt, and Frypan's moonshine. If she didn't ache so much, she would have snuggled back, but her ribs screamed at every small movement; even turning her head made her gasp in pain.

Tyn was still unconscious. His glasses were sitting on the wooden box in-between their cots. His face was drawn and pale, and there were several layers of bandages wrapped around his midsection. Elizabeth could still see the moment when the Griever struck him. She closed her eyes and a tear ran down her cheek before she could stop it. The wetness of it made her lips smack. She was so thirsty.

"Newt," she tried, her voice cracking. She nearly fainted again from the effort. She must have broken a couple ribs on top of bruising everything. The arm that had been ripped by the Griever didn't sting nearly as badly as her chest did.

"Newt," her voice was barely a whisper. Newt said something else, but she couldn't understand him with his head down. She could feel the heat of his lips against the bare skin of her shoulder.

"Newt," she groaned. "Newt wake up."

"I am awake." Newt moved his head and suddenly the weight on her shoulder bone lifted. He took her hand in his and gently lifted her arm towards him. His hair brushed against the delicate skin at her wrist. When she met his gaze, Elizabeth wasn't surprised to find his eyes full of unshed tears. He frowned and blinked the sleep from his eyes, and then smiled warmly at her. His lips were quirked up in that goofy way of his, and his eyes crinkled at the edges.

"You back?" he asked, sounding shy.

"I love you, Newt." Elizabeth smiled back at him. Despite everything-despite knowing she wasn't okay, despite knowing everything that had happened was leading to an unmentionable future-despite everything, he was still smiling at her with those lips and gazing at her with those lovely, long-lashed eyes.

"I love you, Elizabeth." Newt turned his head slightly and kissed her wrist, her palm, the tips of her fingers. "I love you forever."

---

Newt didn't tell her that while she slept, she screamed in her sleep, cursing people he didn't know and hitting the Med-jacks when they tried cooling her head with damp cloths. Truth be told, he wasn't even sure she was asleep the whole time, or simply suffering from some lucid fever-dream. It happened to everyone who was stung by a Griever. First, they would experience nightmares, and then they'd start forgetting where they were, and then, at the worst of it, they'd become violent and a danger to the entire glade. He knew as soon as she'd shown them her Griever sting that it was only a matter of time before she no longer recognized him.

The reality had hit him hard. He still wasn't over the initial shock of it. Ever since the Griever had stabbed Tyn and taken Dalton, the Glade had become eerily silent. No one wanted to talk about it-Newt least of all. He feared that if he thought about it too long, he'd go crazy. He remembered the time he jumped off the wall, and the way Elizabeth had cried over him. He remembered that dark and desolate place in his mind very well. He didn't want to go back there. Like Elizabeth said, it would destroy him.

Elizabeth didn't want him to be destroyed. She was the only reason he kept on going; the only reason he got out of bed and walked around living. Well, there were other reasons, too, including the strengthened relationships with some of the other boys. For the sake of the Glade, for the sake of the others, for the sake of himself...he could not fall apart.

So he didn't tell Elizabeth when she woke up that his world was on the edge of disaster. Instead, he made sure to smile at her, and told her that he loved her because he thought she'd appreciate it, and he knew he did.

Forever.

---

Jeff came to tell him that she was awake. Gally wasn't sure why the klunk bothered, but for once he was glad with the meddling of others. He had been discussing a new set of huts with the other Builders—a refreshingly normal task in the midst of what had happened.

"Keep an eye on P.F. for me, will you, Louis?" he asked. He hated talking about another person as someone who needed taking care of, but P.F. was different since losing Dalton. Unfortunately, he and Dalton had been as close as he'd suspected, and the loss of his dear friend had traumatized him. He hadn't spoken a word to anyone, and often stared into space with a dark expression on his normally carefree face. It was kind of haunting, actually. Gally found him annoying on a good day; this was so much worse. He definitely preferred goofy, cheerful P.F. to this empty shell. He'd always been so weirdly positive, even during the worst of times. It was hard seeing him like this, they could use some of those positive vibes, now.

"Will do, boss," Louis said, turning to look at the boy in question. P.F. was standing among several pieces of wood, frowning at something nobody else could see.

"You want to help me with the siding?" Louis asked. P.F. didn't respond.

Gally jogged to the med-hut, trying to control the excitement—and dread—that was bubbling in him. He was grateful to Elizabeth for being alive, but nothing good came from Griever-bites. He didn't bother knocking on the door, thrusting it open as if he owned the place and going to stand next to her bed. Newt was sitting closest to her on her side, and Jeff was busy with Tyn on the other side, so he was forced to smile at her from farther away than expected.

"Gally!" her whole face lit up upon seeing him. Gally's stomach clenched with guilt. Why did she always have to be so shucking difficult? Newt spared him a quick glance, but didn't move aside. The bloody slinthead.

"Stop shouting," Gally responded. He could almost feel Newt roll his eyes at the comment, but he couldn't help it. "Are you trying to give everyone a headache?"

"Good to see you too, Gals." She was still using that blasted nickname?

"Are...you okay?"

She cocked her head, "No sarcasm?" she lifted an eyebrow. There were shadows beneath her face and her eyes seemed tired. Gally shook his head.

"Sorry," he said, "Newt's aura is getting huffier by the minute."

Elizabeth laughed, and Newt turned in his seat. He was glaring, but there was no malice in it. "My what, now?" he said.

"Forget it, it's outside your vocabulary." Gally smirked, feeling a bit of the tension leave his chest.

"Oh, yes, I forgot what a linguist you are, Gally," Newt said, his brow softening. He chuckled a little and Gally snorted, crossing his arms.

"NO!" from the other bed, Tyn suddenly bolted upright, his eyes wide and bloodshot, despite having been asleep up until then.

"Tyn!" Elizabeth struggled to sit up and threw the covers off herself to rush to his side. Newt got up so fast he knocked the chair down and it hit Gally's shins. He hissed with the sting of it, but followed to join them at Tyn's side.

"Tyn! Tyn can you hear me?" Jeff's voice was surprisingly loud for his small-ish stature. The lanky boy looked at him and started shaking. On impulse, Gally grabbed him by the shoulders.

"HELP ME," he ordered. Newt grabbed on to his other shoulder and they held Tyn down as he suffered a spasm attack. He was vaguely aware of Elizabeth circling her arms around him to help hold him down her small, pale hands gripping onto Tyn's wrists until they were red. After several jarring seconds, Tyn fell still. He was quiet for a second, and then twisted his arms and grabbed Elizabeth's arm, dragging her towards him with unnatural strength.

"You," he hissed, not sounding like himself at all. "You did this." Elizabeth yelped as he jerked her with a cruel touch, wrenching himself out of Newt's grip in the process.

"You did this to me!"

"Tyn!" Gally forced his arms down and Newt came around to grab Elizabeth from behind. "Let her go!"

"She's a traiter," Tyn's voice was eerily calm. "She's part of the reason we're stuck here in this place. She's one of them."

"Shuck, Tyn, we already know that!" Jeff cried, helping Gally pull Tyn's hands off Elizabeth. Elizabeth shrank away, gasping in shock, and Newt shoved his hands against Tyn's chest.

"Bloody shank!" he said. Tyn fell backwards, glaring at them. There was a pregnant pause, and then: "Where are my glasses? I can't see for shit."

Nobody moved. Jeff eyed his Glademate warily, then freed one of his hands to retrieve the glasses on the bedside table. Tyn grabbed them and put them on. He blinked a few times and then seemed to relax.

"Why are you guys all staring at me?" he asked. They were too shocked to respond at first. There was something a little off about him. He cocked his head and frowned, and he looked like Tyn, but there was something else in his voice. Something...dark.

"Tyn?" Jeff asked.

"Elizabeth!" he said, ignoring Jeff. "You're okay!"

"Uh," Elizabeth was still holding her arm where he'd grabbed her. Did he not remember what happened only seconds ago? At least she didn't smile and pretend everything was okay like she normally did.

"She's fine," Newt said, pressing his side against Elizabeth. She leaned into his heat. Gally crossed his arms.

"Do you remember anything?" he asked. Honestly, was he the only guy with a sense of sanity around here? Why was he the one asking the important questions?

"I remember..." Tyn put a hand to his head as if he had a headache. "I remember the Griever trying to sting Elizabeth. It stung me, instead." He looked at Elizabeth and again, there was that strange shadow passing over his face. She must have noticed it, too.

"You saved my life," she said.

"You got stung, too," Tyn said.

"Not because of you."

They spoke like that for a while, until Gally got bored with the conversation.

"I'll come visit you later, Elizabeth," he said. He planned to simply walk out, but Elizabeth stood up and came to his side, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him in an awkward side hug. He stood there and let her hug him, and he patted her shoulder a little bit with his free arm.

"I hate hugs," he said, unable to keep the smile from his voice."

"I know," she said.

---

She convinced Jeff that she was well enough to walk, and went with Newt back to her hut. They spoke for a while, sitting on her bed and leaning against the walls.

"Did you have any more weird dreams?" Newt asked.

"No," Elizabeth shook her head. "I don't remember having any dreams at all."

Newt was silent for a bit, his lips in a grim line. She didn't want to ask him what that meant, but she had to know.

"Did...did I do something?"

Newt took her hand in his and traced invisible lines across her palm. "You screamed a lot. You tried to get out of bed." He sighed, and with a shaky voice continued: "You weren't like yourself; you were angry and desperate."

"Did I hurt anyone?" Elizabeth didn't want to know the answer. She shivered, but not from Newt's touch. He kissed the side of her face, just past her earlobe.

"It isn't your fault," he murmured. He kissed her again, this time on the side of her nose. She turned to him and nuzzled his nose, wishing she could capture the moment for an eternity. Her lips found his, their touch slow and passionate. He tasted like sunshine on a bright day and the fresh green of summer. His hands were warm against her skin, traveling across her skin, his touch imprinting itself like a trail of fire across her skin.

"It will get worse," she said against his lips. He huffed, a hot breath mixing with hers.

"Maybe it won't," his voice was hopeful, his words were not.

"It will." Elizabeth pulled away to look at him. His face was flushed as it always was after they'd been kissing; his hair slightly ruffled.

"Elizabeth," he groaned, trying to rekindle the flames. His hands pulled against the fabric of her shirt at her shoulders.

"Remember what I told you?" she said. She let him push her shirt down, but she caught his face in her hands when he leaned in to kiss her shoulder.

"You can't save me, this time," she said very seriously. "You have to let me go."

He let out a choked sob, and pushed her hands away. "I know!" he shouted, trying to conceal his pain. Her own tears were flowing in rivers – waterfalls - down her face.

"I know!" Newt was shaking, she was shaking, the bed was shaking. The whole world was shaking with their grief. A love so true, so beautiful, so sweet...

...so short.

She didn't need words to tell him how she felt; he didn't need words to tell her how he felt. The time for words was over. They clung to one another, bodies hot, hands insistent, mouths meeting in a feverish passion. No time for regrets, no time for "what-if" and "I wish." Nothing but them in those last lucid moments of a reality soon to be nothing more than a wonderful dream.